


Problem, Princess?

by wanheda_two_heda



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best friend's brother, Childhood Friends, F/M, Sloppy Makeouts, i love these two dorks, shirtless bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanheda_two_heda/pseuds/wanheda_two_heda
Summary: Anon on Tumblr asked: 78 for the bellarke prompt pretty pls78. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have kissed you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a blast writing this. Hope you like it!

“I’m in the kitchen!” Clarke calls when she hears the door to Octavia’s apartment slam shut.

The pair has been friends their entire lives, so naturally, when they found out they were going to the same college, they got apartments in the same building right across the hall from each other. Clarke had this thing where when she paints, she has no regard for anyone else or where she leaves her paints, and as much as O loves her best friend, they both agreed it would be best if they didn’t live together. They could be close without Octavia stepping in paint and tracking it all through the building; it was the perfect compromise. Each girl had a key to the other’s apartment, and really, they only weren’t together when they were sleeping.

So it comes as a surprise to Clarke when a very muscular arm that definitely does not belong to Octavia reaches over her head to grab the box of cereal that she was standing on her tiptoes to try to get to. She can hear muffled music pouring out of a pair of headphones when she turns around and comes face to ... chest with an equally muscular, very well defined chest, completely bare and glistening with sweat. She tries to jump back, but only manages to hit her hip painfully against the counter behind her.

“Bellamy!” she gasps. 

Bellamy Blake's always been trouble where Clarke is concerned. He's five years older than Clarke and starting the first year of his master’s at a college five hundred miles away. It’s been over a year since the last time she even spoke to him. Her best friend’s infuriating older brother is the last person she expected to see when she left her apartment to find something for breakfast. She had a bad habit of forgetting to do her groceries, and Octavia wouldn't miss a bowl of cereal. God knows she eats all of Clarke's food, anyway. Octavia had an early morning class, so Clarke hadn’t even hesitated before crossing the hall in nothing but her shortest pyjama shorts and a too-small tank top. Had she known she’d run into the man she’d been crushing on since she was ten, she would have at least put a sweater on.

“Problem, Princess?” he asks with a shit eating grin, putting the cereal box down on the counter and turning to drink straight from the tap. 

Clarke takes a moment to admire the way he’s filled out since she last saw him, the muscles on his back, the dimples he has right above the waist band of his running shorts, the way his iPhone arm band strains to wrap around his bicep. For a second, Clarke lets herself imagine digging her nails into those arms as they cage her in, Bellamy staring down at her. She shakes the image from her head when Bellamy turns around.

He rakes his eyes slowly over her body, and it’s then that she remembers what she’s wearing. She quickly crosses her arms over her chest and doesn’t miss the way his eyes are fixed just slightly lower than her face. She ignores the twinge in her gut. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the drop of water at the edge of his lip she’d been trying not to stare at.

He crowds into her personal space, eyes locked on hers, and she’s all too aware of the counter that keeps her from moving away.

“What are you doing here, Bellamy?” she asks breathily, not focusing on the way he keeps coming towards her.

He places a hand against the cupboard to the right of her head, effectively trapping her. “I could ask you the same thing. Don’t you live across the hall?”

“Don’t you live in Chicago?” she snarks back defensively as she tries desperately not to get lost in the freckles that cover his face in constellations.

“Touché,” he says, offering nothing else and not moving away from her. She quirks an eyebrow at him, though how he manages to notice when his eyes are still locked on her chest is lost on her. “I had a few days off and thought I’d come see my little sister. I got in late last night.” That explains why she didn’t know he was in town. She’d had a long day and fell asleep early.

“Shame you didn't come to see me,” Clarke says.

“Yeah?” he asks, and she takes in the way his Adam’s apple bobs.

Clarke doesn’t know why she reaches up then to capture his mouth with hers, but she does, and suddenly Bellamy’s hand is in her hair, and he’s licking into her mouth hungrily. She sighs, and he somehow finds a way to deepen the kiss further. Their tongues battle for control as she continues to kiss Bellamy in the dirtiest way she's ever kissed anyone. Clarke swallows the groan that escapes him. 

They break apart, panting heavily, and Bellamy’s breath fans across her face. His pupils are blown wide, and she’s sure that hers look the same. 

“Fuck,” she says, racking her hand through her hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“No,” he says, his hands going to her hips, his fingers digging into her skin. He hoists her up onto the counter and moves to stand between her legs. “You should have. You definitely should have.”

He kisses her again, just as passionately, as if he's dying and she's his only salvation. He moves his mouth down to suck at her pulse point, grinning at the bruise that blooms on her skin. 

“You’re sister might come home,” Clarke pants as his hands find their way under her tank top, his thumbs brushing at the undersides of her breasts. She gasps, throwing her head back. He laughs, the sound coming out huskier than she remembers him sounding.

“Don’t care,” he says, just as breathless as his nose traces up the column of her neck.

She runs her hands through his curls, feeling the dampness from his sweat.

“She will,” Clarke breathes. 

“Fine. I need a shower anyway,” he says, his hands and lips unrelenting as he moves down to kiss her sternum.

“My place. I’ll help,” Clarke manages

He grins at her wolfishly, sliding his hands under her thighs and carrying her, laughing, back to her apartment.

* * *

It takes Octavia all of half an hour to figure out that her brother slept with her best friend, and Bellamy an entire week to confess to Clarke, over text message, nonetheless, that he’s been wanting to kiss her since the day he met her. She promises plenty more kisses next time he visits. He promises her dinner.

 

* * *

Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](youleftme-clarke.tumblr.com/ask) <3


End file.
